


the other side of the sky

by Trillian_Astra



Category: Les Misérables (2012), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Crossover, Fusion, Gen, because i can't resist sandman crossovers, written for a kinkmeme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trillian_Astra/pseuds/Trillian_Astra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>seven snippets in which the Amis (..and Eponine and Cosette) encounter the Endless. not necessarily while knowing about it, and sometimes in dreams, but... you get the idea.</p><p>(written for a prompt on Round 3 of the Les Mis kinkmeme over on LJ)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the other side of the sky

Paris in the summer. The streets echo with revolution, if you know how to listen.

(They’ve done this before, all of them. They know how situations like this end. But they come to watch anyway, because this time might be different.)

*

Eponine walks. She walks a lot these days, thinking about all the ways her life could be better. Sometimes she imagines Marius is with her. Once, without knowing it, she had walked with a tall, slender figure with warm golden eyes, who had told her whispered stories of the life she might have, of how much better everything would be with Marius by her side.

*

Delirium meets a man slumped in a tavern corner, his mind hazy with drink. She bends down and gives him a flower. The flower is one that has never existed on this plane, but he doesn’t seem to notice. She does a pirouette for him, her flowy green dress billowing out around her, and he smiles. She kisses his cheek and skips away.

*

Desire murmurs in the ear of a beautiful lonely girl, telling stories of the world waiting outside the walls of her garden, and of the young man waiting for her.  Meanwhile Eponine hears Marius talk incessantly of Cosette, and knows that he is lost to her, and weeps. She does not see Despair standing next to her in friendly silence. Despair weeps also, but the liquid flowing down her cheeks is not tears.

*

(Destruction walks the same streets as his siblings, though he does not draw their attention. He lends his strength to help a group of students overturn a cart to block the street. One of the students claps him on the shoulder, thanks him, and they share a flask of wine together.)

*

Courfeyrac’s dreams, when he recalls them, typically involve improbably beautiful girls in his bed, not impossibly tall, impossibly pale men with stars in their eyes. He wouldn’t have thought about it, except the pale, quiet chap who came into the Musain that day had this look in his eyes that made Courfeyrac’s blood run cold with recognition. Though he does not know quite what it is that he is recognising…

*

Rifles fire, and he feels Grantaire’s hand pressed against his as the bullets tear through his body. Then he feels nothing at all, until a soft touch on his shoulder.

He opens his eyes, and sees a pretty, very pale girl smiling at him, and he somehow feels…loved. “P-Patria?”

Her smile broadens to a grin. “No, ‘fraid not.”

He looks around, sees himself lying propped up against the wall, sees Grantaire lying next to him. “So this is it.”

“This is it,” the pretty girl says. “Are you all right?”

“I knew it would end like this,” he says without thinking, and realised the truth of it even as he says the words. “I’m not afraid.”

“I know.”

“What’s next?”

“That part is up to you,” she says. “Though, before that… it was a good plan,” she adds. “A really good plan.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. She sighs, and draws him close, and he is gone, with a soft sound of rustling wings.

*

Combeferre dreams of books all the time, usually when an exam is coming up and he is trying to study.

He dreams of books on the night that they spend manning the barricade, in those few moments of sleep that he manages to snatch. Or rather, he dreams of one book, its pages rustling back and forth in a wind that he doesn’t feel.

The pages do not sound like paper, but dead leaves, dried and blowing around.

He tries to read the words on the pages, but the words are in a language he does not know, and the letters dance on the page.

He hears a voice (a dry voice, that sounds very like the rustling pages of the book), and it says, simply, “No.”

He has a glimpse of a tall, stern, hooded  figure before he wakes, shivering.


End file.
